


Back to Black

by wolvesofbrooklyn



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 17:56:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4970722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolvesofbrooklyn/pseuds/wolvesofbrooklyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solid disobeys Kaz's orders triggering old memories that do not go down well. A brief character study of Kaz dealing with his past trauma leading to him abusing his power in a sexual situation with Solid Snake. Contains bootlicking and an unfortunate tendency to visit the sins of the father upon the son.</p><p>Set during Solid's period as Kaz's pupil, references the major spoilers for The Phantom Pain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back to Black

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SoftRegard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoftRegard/gifts).



> The title is from the Amy Winehouse song of the same name which I listen to on a loop pretty much every day of my existence. The Beyonce Andre 3000 cover for the Great Gatsby is also pretty premium.
> 
> A present for my darling, GutterFeast <3

Like so many arguments before it, it’s not about the words said but the sting of pain felt long before voices grew sharp. The deeply threaded wound that someone happens to pull by accident, old hurts that can’t be named lest they be summoned and dealt with. The severity of these arguments is mitigated only by the rareness of their instigation. Sore spots come with sign posts and over time it becomes easier and easier to walk around them. At a certain point, you start to believe that you’ve contained the trauma, imprisoned it in with a litany of strategies and tactics.

 

Which makes it all the worse when your safeguards fail.

 

Most of Kaz’s days were uneventful. With enough mindfulness he could move beyond his situation, put his intensive focus on the task at hand. If he was busy enough, if there were enough duties to fill the afternoon’s yawning hours, he had no problem compartmentalizing his thoughts. As much as the recruits cursed his name during their drills, they respected him, competed for his approval. There was value in what he was doing and for once he could unequivocally feel good about it. 

 

Weeks could go by without him thinking about Big Boss.

 

There were were still bad days, though. Every now and then his practiced tranquility would be punctured by one reminder or another. Given his line of work, he was never short of them. Most he could defuse, a rare few snuck past his defences. When that happened his mood would turn black, ominous, overwhelming. Like a thunderstorm during a drought. Dangerous. It was perversely welcome, the snapping reminder that he still felt things.

 

Kaz feels the familiar tension beneath his skin that morning, scuffling across the dusty training grounds, surveying the soldiers warily. He never did take to wearing prosthetics, even though his reasons were nothing more than carrion to be picked over at this point. Skull face was gone, the crusade was over. Still that morning it had all felt fresh, the memory of the crash burning alight in his phantom limbs. The leaden realization of his abandonment thick in his mind as though he was just learning the truth and had not carried it for decades. 

 

After all, the subconscious is a dog less easily trained. 

 

The details are unimportant. Solid deviates from the order, expands his mission objectives without permission. Returns from the exercise with his quarry under his arms, in this case several red flags scattered throughout the obstacle course, only to turn back to help a comrade who had sprained her ankle coming down off the wall. It’s all very noble, heroic. Cheers erupt from his comrades waiting behind the line. Solid doesn’t vet this plan with Master Miller, doesn’t question the viability of his solution. She needs help and I can help her. It’s exactly this kind of well-intentioned insubordination that chafes against tender flesh. 

 

How many times had Venom done this to Kaz?

 

(Venom, not Solid)

 

Her arm’s barely sloughed off of Solid’s shoulder when Kaz tears into him. It’s without any decorum that he berates him for his recklessness, his disobedience. Kaz’s colleagues immediately go quiet, conversations drop, forgotten. Master Miller has instilled a healthy mixture of fear and respect amongst the men, but thirty seconds into his tirade it becomes clear that this is beyond a simple reprimand. He’s yelling himself hoarse. Solid’s surprise is written across his face, but quickly shifts to defensiveness. Kaz knows somewhere in the back of his mind that he’s overreacting, but he can’t stop himself.

 

It’s when he turns back towards the base, still trembling from his fervour, that Solid breaks his silence.

 

“I wasn’t gonna leave her.” 

 

Usually soft spoken and jovial, the caustic edge to Solid’s words burns icily in the summer air. It’s a tone he shouldn’t be taking, that he normally wouldn't be taking, but Master Miller had just torn into him for saving someone’s life and admiration has never been able to divest him of his compassion, not fully anyway. The silence amongst the soldiers and military personnel in the training grounds is palpable. Master Miller is an implacable instructor and Solid a near flawless recruit. The sudden explosion between the two doesn’t make sense, sets everyone on edge.

 

Disputes are one thing but escalation is another.

 

Kaz bristles at the rare insolence, at the voice that doesn’t belong to Solid though he comes by his plagiarism honestly. In that moment, he’s Big Boss, the sequel mirroring the original with such profound accuracy Kaz almost wants to snatch the dog tags around his neck, would were he not so furious. (Solid, not Big Boss) He needs to brace himself in the present. He is not being berated by Big Boss again. Not standing where he had always been, between the false messiah and the rest of the fucking world. He can feel all of their eyes on them, bystanders questioning.

 

“My office, now.” Kaz snarls. This needs to be handled in private.  

 

Solid remains still for a moment, as if he’s seriously considering disobeying the orders of his superior. Part of Kaz wants to see him try it, see whether or not the father’s arrogance was of his own making or a hereditary blemish. Any bravado now, any back talk, and Solid would be run ragged. He’d be praying to wash out by the time he was through with him. Solid’s mindful though, more cautious than his design. Second thoughts don’t show on his face as he picks up his gear with resignation. Follows the order.

 

Pebbles skitter away on loose gravel and dust rises in their wake. Kaz’s muscles are beginning to cramp at they move through the grounds, but he doesn’t slow his pace even a fraction. If the brace is rubbing and stinging his forearm painfully, if his body betraying its weaknesses more openly than usual, he disregards it. Soldiers cut salutes that he pointedly ignore. Solid remains on his heels, Kaz can hear as much, careful to maintain his distance, but keeping up all the same.

 

Inside the small office, disapproval, anger, and confusion come off his Solid in waves. Kaz couldn’t care less about his confusion, only listening for his accompanying footfalls, the close of the door behind them. “Lock it,” he orders. Solid obliges, locking the door with a quiet click. They’re alone now, beyond the prying eyes of the base. It should be assuring, things are under control. Kaz doesn’t feel any better though. Moving to his desk, he snags a bottle of something amber from his shelf and fills a glass tumbler. Two fingers. Not too much, just enough to settle him.

 

He sips, relishing the taste on liquor on his tongue.

 

“So I was supposed to just leave her then.” Solid says, finally. It’s a flat statement, not a question. He wants to know how he dropped from favourite to whipping boy in the course of an afternoon. Leave it to a soldier to simplify, Kaz thinks moodily, leaning his brace against the desk and taking a quick sip before slipping into it again. He turns around, Solid isn’t cowed by the intensity of his glance, has never looked away from his eyes out of pity or discomfort, awkwardly studied the pained shuffle in his gait. There is respect there, but also confusion, hurt.

 

“You were supposed to follow orders.” Kaz says tightly, setting the glass down.

 

Solid’s always been good at defusing tensions, persuading people that they wanted the peace they thought they didn’t, but the skill is lost here. His voice is strong, reasonable. “I improvised to recover an injured friendly within the time limit, I don’t see how-“

 

“Don’t interrupt me, soldier.” Kaz snaps, stalking towards Solid. He gets right in his face. To his credit, Solid doesn’t flinch at the closeness, his sharp eyes meeting Kaz’s even as he shoves his chest once, hard. “This isn’t about your heroic ambitions and it sure as hell isn’t about her. It’s about how you conduct yourself in the training exercises and, by extension, the field.”

 

Solid’s mouth is a tight line. He listens and Kaz continues.

 

“You overstepped. Chain of command dictates you report to me. You do as I say, no more, no less. In the field you can’t just improvise because you feel like it. You don’t think I would have sent someone back for an injured recruit?” His condemnation feels like vindication, somewhat abates the sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach from earlier. The nauseating deja vu of history repeating itself under a youthful guise. Kaz wasn’t going to let that happen. He thuds his brace on the ground for emphasis and Solid’s eyes jump back to his. “You don’t make the calls here, Snake, I do.”

 

“I realize that.” Solid says firmly, “No one else was in a position help her in time. I anticipated the order and acted. With all due respect, Master Miller, I know I don’t make the calls, but I’m the guy in the field. That sword cuts both ways.” 

 

Solid’s a sharp soldier. He quickly circles around the weakness of Kaz’s argument, that without immediate action Solid wouldn’t have been able to save his comrade under the time limit if he had waited for orders. That Kaz himself, along with other instructors, had briefed him on the best course of action for numerous scenarios should he be forced to act on his own. That while what he did was wrong in the technical sense, it was still well within the spirit of his training as a soldier.

 

Kaz switches tactics. He’s spoiling for a fight now, to taste the sweetness of victory.

 

“You anticipated?” Kaz laughs bitterly, turning away from Solid shaking his head. He grabs for his drink, almost finishing it while watching Solid tracks him with uncertain eyes. This was almost too easy. Kaz leans back against the desk, shooting him an expectant stare. Returns drink to the surface, to drum his fingers impatiently against the wooden edge all the while staring the recruit down. Allows the moment to drag nice and long.  

 

“Well?” Kaz gestures outward, a borrowed maneuver from his theatrical one-time ally, “Go ahead, anticipate.”

 

A muscle in Solid’s jaw twitches. Kaz can almost feel the upswell of anger in his chest. A bitter smirk pulls at his lips face at the familiarity of it all. Big Boss was like that. A calm baseline, a studied neutral, until he wasn’t, the slightest flicker of anger lighting up the room like a goddamn candle. It was rare, but it was impossible to forget. It was terrifying for other people, Kaz supposed. Not for him though. Back in those days he had been by his side. Felt his anger like his own. (Big Boss, not Venom.)

 

“What do you want from me?” Solid asks coldly.

 

“I want you to follow your goddamn orders,” Kaz roars back at him, incensed at the nerve of Solid’s petulance. He walks around the desk, dragging the chair out from under it. The metal frame screeches loudly against the hardwood as he drags it into the open. Solid winces at the noise. Kaz sits down gingerly, enjoying the instant relief no longer standing has on his cramped muscles. Spreading his legs, he can’t help but notice how dirty his boots are, dust covered and gritty. Something twists inside of him, low and dark. “You can start by cleaning my boots.”

 

It’s demeaning, a slap in the face, and an undeniable order issued by a superior officer. Kaz isn’t deluded enough to think that kind of thing would rattle Solid on principle. He may not be happy about it, but he won’t make a scene, he doesn’t ooze the same kind of machismo that earns his fellow comrades suspensions. An order is an order and he wouldn’t be a very good soldier if he put his ego before his profession. 

 

Solid murmurs a “Yes, sir” emphasizing the “sir” to affirm their respective positions, before moving to the door to get the requisite supplies: polish, clothes.

 

“Where are you going, soldier?” Kaz asks, the question halting Solid in his steps.

 

Solid is confused by Kaz’s question, gloved hand already around the door handle, “To get supplies?”

 

Solid waits for a reply, apprehensive, Kaz reaches for his glass, toys with it. He watches the last vestiges of his whiskey slide from on end to the other as he swirls the cup idly. The storms make him bolder, reckless, later he’ll remember this feeling above all else. Turning his attention to Solid, he tips the remainder over his boots, the few remaining drops splattering loudly against the dry, dusty sandy-black of his boots, wet circles revealing the slate black leather beneath.

 

“I gave you an order. _Improvise_.” Hadn’t one of the men found an almost empty flask stashed beneath Solid’s mattress a few months back? It’s more than a gauntlet thrown, its a personal understanding that this is so much larger than Solid knows. The price of forgiveness is personal debasement, it always has been.

 

The realization flickers across Solid’s face, an intoxicating combination of disbelief and humiliation. He hasn’t grown into his father’s control yet. Big Boss only ever parted with whatever emotions he wanted to share, in comparison Solid’s achingly open. Kaz doesn’t realize how much he wanted this until he’s seeing it with his own eyes, a depraved form of catharsis. There’s a weak assurance that sets in Solid’s shoulders as he turns towards his superior. His steps creak too loudly across the hardwood as he drops down to his knees before Kaz. 

 

The tableau they strike is dizzying.

 

Solid looks at him for a moment, maybe hoping that this only a test of his obedience, that Master Miller wouldn’t actually subject him to his kind of treatment but Kaz’s expression is unyielding. Finding no salvation, he leans down over the toe of Kaz’s left boot, hesitant. Kaz hungrily follows the arch of his back, the way the hem of his grey shirt slips forward revealing a slim strip of fawn beige skin. Solid is still frozen and Kaz is about to remind him of his orders when he moves closer, mouth parting. 

 

Reluctantly, Solid takes an experimental lick, his tongue swiping over a droplet of whiskey and the dried dust from the day’s travels along the smooth curve of the toe box. His tongue leaves a shiny, wet brushstroke in his wake. He makes a face, tasting the grit ins his mouth, but he resolves to continue. Swallowing thickly, he licks again alongside his first foray, ignoring the hot blush rising in his cheeks. Braced on his forearms, Solid soon immerses himself in his task, affecting ignorance to Kaz’s supervision. 

 

For his part, Kaz watches his soldier’s willful submission raptly, his breathing growing heavy at Solid’s attentions. Follows the tease of Solid’s pink tongue as it traces along the thick stitching, tongues each eyelet clean with fastidious care. Every heavy swallow, the bob of his Adam’s apple before he returns to work, Kaz’s boot slowly returning to it’s original state, from a mottled canvas to a deep meticulous black. Kaz kneads a hand over the thickening outline of his cock. 

 

The room is deathly quiet save for the occasional shift in Solid’s position creaking along the floorboards and occasional sighs of pleasure.

 

Satisfied with his work on left boot, Solid moves to the right, catching a glance at Kaz’s hand massaging the impressive bulge in his pants on the way. He averts his eyes with almost virginal prudishness and Kaz has to bite back a laugh. He always did get the feeling that Solid was compensating for some kind of sexual inexperience given the amount of jokes he tended to make in the area. He wouldn’t be surprised, Solid’s life had been carefully structured until now. Solid doesn’t comment on Kaz’s obvious arousal, settles back down to work a blush still working furiously across his cheeks.

 

The right boot follows the second, Solid’s careful ministrations renewing it once more to its original colour. He sits back on his haunches, runs his tongue over his lips. His throat must be drier than hell.

 

“Are you done?” Kaz asks breathily. Pre-cum is leaking freely now, soaking through the thick fabric of his khaki pants. The grind of his palm isn’t nearly enough to satisfy, but it’s good nonetheless. He doesn’t bother to stop though Solid’s clearly watching him touch himself now. The former prudishness replaced with hungry curiosity, Kaz can’t help noticing Solid’s own erection, tight and painful in his pants.

 

“You tell me.”

 

Kaz smirks at the smart ass answer, “No, you’re not.”

 

Solid gingerly unbuckles Kaz’s belt, releasing his cock the tight confines of his pants. Kaz shudders involuntarily at the contact, the cool air and Solid’s warm fingers temporarily overwhelming. He’s thick in his hand, his cock throbbing for more attention. Solid licks stripes along the slick hard length, tongue flourishing along the head. Kissing and licking along his length, Solid’s eyelashes are fanned out beautifully in his concentration. Kaz watches him with a mixture of lust and bemusement, his fingers quickly finding their home in Solid’s dark hair. 

 

Solid makes a small noise of surprise as Kaz tightens his grip, guides his head to wear he really wants it to be, the head of his cock resting on Solid’s bottom lip. As much as he enjoys languid foreplay, Solid isn’t his girlfriend and he isn’t of a mind to indulge him when he wants to get off.

 

“Open,” he orders, and Solid’s mouth parts for him and Kaz pushes him forward. He groans at the sensation of sliding into his mouth, Solid’s tongue like hot plush silk against his cock. He eases him deeper little by little, watches as Solid struggles to accommodate more and more of his considerable size. He’s a pretty picture like this Kaz thinks lustily, his full lips around his cock, pre-cum messily streaking his face, cheeks hollowed and sharp. Only one thing missing.

 

He leans his head backwards, enjoying the experience for the physical sensations alone, listens to the wet slide of skin on skin, Solid’s laboured breathing.

 

As with anything he attempted, Solid quickly finds his rhythm, tonguing and sucking at Kaz with persistence.

 

Kaz, sensing his growing climax, tightens his grip and deepens his thrusts, fucking Solid’s throat with vicious abandon. He’s never been this selfish a lover before, but he’s also never ordered someone to fuck him so he figures he may as well go all in. It’s not as though he wasn’t already going to hell. He pushes on. If Solid’s tongue was exquisite, the tight wet vice of his throat was beyond compare. He spills into Solid’s throat messily, his orgasm wrung out of him by tight fluttering muscles.

 

Solid pulls away coughing, two tear trails catching the light for a second before he brushes them away. Kaz tucks himself back into his pants, tries to steady his ragged breathing. Solid composes himself as best he can on his heels, wiping away evidence of their tryst from his face, hands moving to rest on his knees. He won’t look up at Kaz, but his body betrays him, his cock still painfully hard. He rises to stand easily, rolling his shoulders to shake lose the stiffness of his formerly hunched over position.

 

“Am I dismissed?” He asks, his voice a little rougher, jarring Kaz out of his rapidly darkening thoughts. The reality of the situation is sinking in thick and heavy in his mind. Kaz isn’t sure whether or not Solid is asking whether or not he can or should leave. Whether or not Kaz is going to finish the business he’s started or recognize their tryst as the wildly inappropriate abuse of power it was. Kaz doesn’t know, and as his post orgasm haze gives way to clearer thought, he realizes he doesn’t want to.

 

Kaz gives him an affirmative and Solid exits. Snagging the bottle, he pours another glass, drinks deeply. He wonders, not for the first time, how much of Big Boss rubbed of on him. How much of his wanton cruelty had he absorbed by his side, his egoism. Whether or not he ever did take anything from the man, if all of this venom wasn’t from Big Boss at all, that Kaz was like this all along. He drinks deeply, cherishing the rough bite of liquor. The bottle will be gone before the night’s over. 

 

Here’s to the welcoming the storm.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have NO military experience so lots of this is improvised, forgive me my slapdash composite picture of military base life I'm sure its super wrong and I feel it in my bones.
> 
> I love both Kaz and Solid so I pretty much had to write something messed up about them, especially given the new stuff we get to play with from TPP.
> 
> Don't have a beta so super sorry for any mistakes!
> 
> LICKING BOOTS IS NOT A RECOMMENDED METHOD OF CLEANING THEM
> 
> Comments are always appreciated <3

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Kill of the Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5141918) by [tsund0ku_library](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsund0ku_library/pseuds/tsund0ku_library)
  * [Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5149520) by [tsund0ku_library](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsund0ku_library/pseuds/tsund0ku_library)
  * [You Know I'm No Good](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5152577) by [tsund0ku_library](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsund0ku_library/pseuds/tsund0ku_library)




End file.
